


Feel the Music

by dontbelasagnax



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Case, Canon Compliant, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Family Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbelasagnax/pseuds/dontbelasagnax
Summary: Hunt-free nights were spent listening to the jewels of the past with the hunter. When asked what his favorite Led Zeppelin songs were, Dean went all in and made a mixtape:'Dean's top 13 Zepp TRAXX' .Wherein Cas is determined to learn about music...and ends up discovering much more in the end.





	Feel the Music

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I've actually been working on this since January of last year. It was initially just supposed to be a quick drabble (around 800 words)...but it kinda got away from me.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Side note: this literally only rated teen and not general because Dean thinks the word "fuck" once.

Listening to music as a human was an entirely different experience than as an angel. Sure as an angel you could appreciate all of the melodies and see the beauty in the art form, but as a human… as a human you could _feel_ it. When a symphony of noises coalesce to create a harmony, you could feel it; sounds so beautiful that they made your hair stand on end and tears flood your eyes.

    As an angel, Castiel could see when a composition resonated with a human soul, and that was always a wondrous sight; but they were still merely wavelengths that had no physical effect on him. He could not experience the beautiful phenomena himself. A catchy tune would not get stuck in his head after hearing Dean hum it during long drives. A powerfully delivered song with hard hitting lyrics wouldn't cause waterworks. Music was simply interesting because it was a staple in his friends' lives.

 

~•~◇~•~  


He would often ask Dean about his favorite music. That resulted in long winded conversations about Led Zeppelin's many hits, Freddie Mercury's musical talents, and the meanings behind AC/DC classics. Castiel found himself enraptured by how passionate the man was for something so quizzical to angels. This led to Dean's supposed quest to culture Cas in the ways of quality music: _"None of that Mozart shit, Cas. If you wanna listen to music, you're listenin’ to real music."_   
    Hunt-free nights were spent listening to the jewels of the past with the hunter. When asked what his favorite Led Zeppelin songs were, Dean went all in and made a mixtape, _'Dean's top 13 Zepp TRAXX'_ .   
    Cas treasured that mixtape more than his trusty trench coat. The trench coat could be replaced, the mixtape however, could not. It was a token of his and Dean's friendship, a labour of love.

    One night, woken by a night terror, Dean ran into Cas in the bunker's kitchen. Cas had been occupying his time by listening to the mixtape on an old walkman. They fell into a thoughtful conversation about music and somehow a song from Dean's childhood was brought up. Dean mentioned that his mother used to sing _'Hey Jude'_ by the Beatles to help him fall asleep. With a quick Google search, Cas found the song and hit play. He thought it was quite enjoyable. There weren't many harmonies, but the mellow melody accompanied by the piano and drum set made it one of the more pleasant songs he'd heard. He found that he almost favored it to _'Stairway to Heaven'_ .   


~•~◇~•~

  
Castiel often stayed behind on hunts. It's not that the Winchester brothers didn't value his field work, but someone needed to stay behind and do research—which meant the person with the rustiest people skills had to babysit the Batcave.

    This is how Cas found himself sifting through the store room, in search of something helpful. Sam and Dean had organized and catalogued everything in the Men of Letters bunker in an orderly fashion. Cursed objects in warded boxes had their own special shelf. Ancient texts that were too bulky to fit in the library had their own box. Funky ingredients for spells weren't even touched and were left on their respective shelves. There was even a box labeled _'miscellaneous'_. It made it fairly easy to find what you were looking for—if you knew what that was. The archive was so vast and chock full of gadgets and gizmos that it took Sam and Dean hours to catalogue everything. Some of the collection could be thrown out, like that random moldy sock or the tube of lipstick that was eerily similar to Abbadon's shade, but some things the boys simply hadn't gotten around to cataloging. Those objects were safely sealed in a wooden crate in a corner of the room, long since forgotten by the Winchesters.

    Cas had been looking through the records for hours, searching for any reason an entire town would hallucinate seeing a stampede of rainbow unicorns. When his search yielded no answer, he shut the heavy text and walked to the only place he hadn't looked yet. The crate. Grabbing a crowbar, Castiel carefully pried open the wooden box. It certainly was not what he was expecting. Inside, were several cardboard boxes filled to the brim with records. Laid on top of the boxes was a beautiful, metal and wood gramophone. From what he could tell, the objects were not cursed or enchanted in the slightest—simply old records. Cas made a mental note to make time to test which items were still functioning.

  
~•~◇~•~   


Turns out, a leprechaun fell through a rift between the fairy realm and, well, the _normal_ realm and was just having fun screwing with humans. Sam and Dean dealt with him accordingly and headed home. By the time they arrived at the bunker, it was nearly 1am and the boys were wiped. Sam dragged himself to his room, saying he'd take a shower before his run in the morning. Dean grabbed a quick snack before walking to his room. A memory foam mattress was calling his name. Strolling down the long hallway, the dulcet tones of 40's swing music could be faintly heard. Writing it off as exhaustion getting the better of him, Dean continued on. Only the closer he got to the bedrooms, the louder the music became. Now, standing before the door to Cas' room, _'At Last'_ by Etta James could clearly be heard. It wasn't loud, but the tune was carrying through the walls, clear enough to distinguish lyrics. Curiosity winning over, Dean opened the door.

    "Hello Dean." Cas was sitting on the bed, vinyls scattered across the bedspread and a gramophone on the nightstand. However cluttered it seemed, it was the most lived-in Dean had ever seen the room.

    "What ya got there, buddy?"

    "The Men of Letters had a rather extensive record collection." Cas motioned towards the records of artists like Frank Sinatra and The Andrew Sisters strewn across the bed. Dean had absolutely no idea who half of them were. "I've tasked myself with disposing of the ruined vinyls."

    Hell if he knew what the guy normally did for fun besides beekeeping and people watching, but Dean reasoned the menial job of organizing salvageable vinyl records seemed like a _'Cas thing'_. One thing was bothering him though…

    "You sure they're...y'know...kosher?" The elder Winchester asked with the vague wave of his hand.

    Cas narrowed his eyes, looking up briefly to give Dean his iconic pissed-off-cat stare. "If you're referring to the possibility they are cursed, as far as I can detect, there are no magical properties."

    "Oh...um, okay," Dean scratched the nape of his neck and cleared his throat, "cool." Cas picked up a record and blew a thin layer of dust off the top. He traced the paper cover reverently. "So, uh, why the sudden interest in retro music?"

    "Have you not been introducing me to older music?" Cas curiously tilted his head in that endearing way that Dean _totally_ didn't find adorable.

    "Yeah. No. I've been showing you the good stuff, music from the seventies and eighties; not this fifties love ballad crap."

    Cas paused and looked him straight in the eyes. Dean was used to the staring, but sometimes the angel's unwavering gaze unnerved him a bit. This was one of those times. "You don't enjoy love songs? Is _'Hey Jude'_ not a love ballad?"

    "Well that's different, Cas."

    "How so, Dean?"

    And _fuck_ . This was exactly the kind of conversation Dean was hoping to avoid. It's only one in the morning for Christ's sake! "Well for starters, _'Hey Jude'_ isn't just your typical, sappy love song for chicks. It's got sentimental value, y'know? Mom used to sing it to me to help me fall asleep. It's just different."

    "I don't see how love songs are exclusively for women. The majority of my Father's human creations have the emotional capacity to experience love, including men."

    "They're just not for guys, okay?" Alright, maybe he was getting a little defensive.

    "As a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, I really do not see the relevance gender has in determining interests in music."

    "Jesus." Dean scrubbed both hands over his face. "Just drop it, dude. 'Kay?"

    Cas looked like he had more to say, but thankfully the angel picked up on the hint that Dean didn't have enough brain power to carry out this conversation. "Alright."

    Dean uncomfortably shifted on his feet for a few moments. "Well, um...'night Cas."

    "Goodnight Dean."

    With a polite, if not slightly awkward wave, Dean hurried off to his room.

  
~•~◇~•~   


After watching Dean retreat from the room, Castiel decided it would be best to stop sorting through the records for the day. His friends just returned from an exhausting hunt and he didn't want to disturb their much needed sleep. After stacking the vinyls, Cas walked to the library. Maybe he would spend the night compiling the Men of Letters’ sparse data on angels and correcting the many inaccuracies. It would certainly help keep his mind off of how odd Dean had acted upon his departure.

  
~•~◇~•~

 

As always, Sam rose up early. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy sleeping in—believe him, he did—he just liked to make his days as productive as possible; and waking up at the crack of dawn helped him do just that. This morning, Sam would start his day with a quick rinse. Yes, a rinse. He'd be taking a longer shower after his run. Towel and athletic wear tucked under his arm, he walked to the shower room.

    The Men of Letters bunker had a room for showering not unlike one you'd find at a swim meet or high school locker room. One wall was lined with shower heads, separated by tiled dividers; creating a stall. The water pressure was magical (no _really_ , the whole fucking place was powered by magic). The only downside was the lack of shower curtains. For that reason, the brothers were very vocal about when they planned on taking a shower. Sam walked in on Dean's naked ass once, and ever since then they'd adopted the unspoken rule.

    The rinse was nice and refreshing. He hopped out of the stall, dried off, and tugged on his exercise clothing. He pulled his hair into a top knot—sweat dripping into your eyes was not a fun experience—and walked down the halls. Sam dropped off his sleepwear in his room and then made a pit stop in the kitchen to retrieve his water bottle. When he made it to the library, a resident was sitting at the large wooden table surrounded by a plethora of files and papers.

    “Hey Cas.” He took a second to observe Castiel flipping through an aged journal. Sam's eyebrows brows furrowed and he set his water bottle on the table. “What's up? Found a new case?”

    “Nothing of the sort, Sam. I'm simply keeping myself occupied.” He looked up at Sam, noticing his exercise wear. He glanced down sheepishly. “I hadn’t realized it was morning already.”

    Sam chuckled and shook his head fondly as he took a seat across from Cas. “Been there, man. Seriously though, are you hunting for a case? I can stay behind next hunt if you want to go. I know you've been cooped up for awhile, it might be nice to get some fresh air and field work.”

    “I’m not searching for a case, I've simply been fixing inaccuracies in the Men of Letters archives. But thank you, Sam. I will keep that in mind.”

    Sam nodded and gave Cas a small smirk. “So, what brought this on? Usually this early in the morning you're watching Netflix on my laptop or taking a walk around the bunker.”

    “That's true. I'm afraid I got carried away. Dean is truly a frustrating human being.”

    “Dean?” Sam asked, not seeing the connection and then—, “What did Dean do now?”

    “It's nothing, I suppose.”

    Sam gave him a meaningful look.

    Cas relented, “While you were away hunting, I found the Men of Letters collection of vinyl records. I decided to listen to each record to discern which ones were ruined and which we could keep.”

    “Oh?”

    “When you and Dean returned from the hunt, he stopped by my room and found me listening to the music.” Cas paused for a second, looking as if he was searching for the right words. “He insisted that fifties love ballads were for _‘chicks’_ , not men.”

    Sam swept a hand over his face and muttered into his palm, “Oh boy.”

    “I tried to tell him that song genres could not possibly be gendered but he told me to drop the subject.”

    “That's just—,” Sam sighed. ”Don't listen to Dean. His fragile masculinity pops up every now and then. Dad wasn't the best influence when it came to things like that. Just—just don't push it too much. He's getting better. I think. He listens to Taylor Swift now.” Sam grimaced.

    “Thank you, Sam.”

    “Don't mention it.” He got up from his seat, grabbing his water bottle, and patted Cas’ shoulder as he passed. When he was just stepping into the map room, Sam turned around and said, “Oh, and Cas?”

    “Yes, Sam?”

    “Keep listening to your music… even if it is for _‘chicks’_.” The last thing Sam saw before he headed up the stairs was Cas’ small, yet sincere, smile.

 

~•~◇~•~

 

Inspired by Sam's words, Cas set off to listen to whatever music he pleased.

    The Men of Letters’ vinyl collection was a good start. He found that he quite quite enjoyed the simple harmonies

    He then took to YouTube. Somehow, after much perusing, he stumbled upon classical music.

    He went from Chopin and Tchaikovsky to Verdi and Puccini. He found the piano pieces beautiful in their stripped down simplicity, but once he stumbled upon opera, he was entranced. The combination of the wavelengths of the sound waves in those scores was just… heavenly. The fullness and the range of octaves sung reminded him of his brothers’ and sisters’ true voices. Of course it was not an exact match, but Castiel supposed it was the closest humans could get to the angelic voice. The lyrics were certainly very human. Take _‘O mio babbino caro’_  for example: in the aria a girl tells her father that she would kill herself if she could not marry the man she loved. Rather dramatic if you asked Castiel… but oh so human.

 

~•~◇~•~

 

When Dean walked into the kitchen one morning, Cas was sitting at the kitchen table donning a pair of earbuds plugged into his phone. Dean didn't think much of it (being that it was only seven in the morning and he hadn't gotten his caffeine fix yet) and headed straight to the coffee pot. No sooner than fifteen minutes later, he sat down opposite Cas with a cup of what was now his second cup of coffee. “Whatchya listenin’ to there, bud?”

    “ _‘Der Hölle Rache’_.”

    “Dear holy what?”

    “ _‘Der Hölle Rache’_ , or as some call it, _‘Queen of the Night’_.”

    Dean's brain worked to connect the dots. He wondered if he was going to need _more_ coffee for this conversation. “Still not following.”

    “ _‘Queen of the Night’_ is an aria from the opera _‘The Magic Flute’_ by Mozart. I've recently discovered that he isn't quite as _‘shit’_ as you once led me to believe.”

    Dean gaped at the angel. _Mozart?_ Jeez. Well.

    “Where did I go wrong,” he mumbled.

    Before Cas could respond to the (rhetorical) question, Dean swiped up his coffee and shuffled out of the room.

    Cas stared blankly at the chair Dean had been occupying moments ago.

 

~•~◇~•~

 

The Winchester brothers were sitting across from one another at the wooden table in the library. “Sam.”

    “Hm.”

    “D'you know what's going on with Cas?”

    Sam looked up from his book. He furrowed his brows when he realized what Dean said. “There's something going on with Cas?”

    “Yeah—I mean. I dunno. Maybe. Probably.” Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's ever so eloquent language. Dean scowled at him.

    “Is there, or is there not something going on with Cas?”

    “I don't know! I mean why is he interested in Frank Sinatra and friggin’ Mozart all o’ sudden. Is there a girl he's trying to impress?”

    “That's what you're worried about?” Sam said dryly. “Cas trying to impress a girl?”

    “No,” Dean denied. “I don't know!”

    “You're an idiot.”

    Dean, bless his soul, looked positively offended.

    Sam sighed. “Remember when we hunted that leprechaun? Well Cas found some vinyl records while we were away and decided to listen to them. Turns out he liked them and didn't understand why fifties love songs weren't for men, as you told him. We talked about it and I told him he should listen to whatever he wants.” Sam paused. “I guess that means he likes opera.”

    “Oh.”

    “Yeah, _oh._ You're an idiot.”

    “Well you're—you're an idiot.” Dean pointed an accusational finger at Sam.

    “Uh huh. Good one.”

    “Whatever, bitch.”

    “Jerk.”

 

~•~◇~•~

 

Doing field work was a nice change of pace for Castiel. Sam kept his word when he offered to stay behind for the next hunt. It was a simple milk run, as the Winchesters said. Just a couple of vampires. Dean and Cas were in and out in under thirty minutes. Really, the most time consuming part was figuring out where the nest was. And after that? As easy as pie… also a phrase Dean used.

    Though the drive back was only seven hours, Dean insisted they relax for a bit. Cas wasn't complaining. He loved the passing scenery on long drives, and especially Dean's company, but the moments in between were nice as well. There was no need to rush.

    They stopped by a drive-thru and picked up some burgers and fries. Cas put _'Dean's top 13 Zepp TRAXX'_ into the tape deck. The chorus to _‘Ramble On’_ kicked in. Cas smiled. He knew how much Dean loved the song.

    “What's got you smilin’ over there?” Dean asked as they pulled into a parking spot.

    Cas simply shook his head.

    They sat in silence—well _not quite_ silence. Dean munched on his burger and fries and Jimmy Page riffed on his guitar.

    “So, uh. Opera huh?” Dean said as he rolled up the wrapper from his burger and stuffed it in the takeout bag.

    Cas shifted so he was facing Dean and slightly tilted his head. He wasn't sure where this line of questioning was going.

    “You've been listenin’ to classical shit,” Dean clarified.

    “Yes. I like it,” Cas said, feeling a bit defensive.

    “Yeah I got that part. Why though.”

    “Why do you enjoy Led Zeppelin?”

    Dean didn't even need a moment to think. “Well because they're friggin’ awesome!”

    “Besides that.”

    “I dunno. They sound great and I grew up listening to ‘em.”

    “That's why.”

    “You grew up… _with_ _opera_?”

    “It reminds me of those of whom I grew up with—my angelic brethren. Of course I use ‘grew up’ as a loose term, but all the same. It reminds me of the beauty that was my brothers’ and sisters’ true voices.”

    Dean nodded. Castiel could tell that it was a lot to take in. His next question surprised Cas though. “Do you even like Zeppelin?”

    “Of course, Dean. I would never lie to you about that.” Cas scooted towards Dean, just to try to convey how sincere he was. It almost hurt that Dean would even _think_ that.

    “Good,” Dean swallowed. “Good.”

    Cas took a leap of faith and said, “In fact, this song reminds me of you.”

    _‘Thank You’_ drifted from the impala's stereos, soft and intimate. Dean's eyes jumped to his—something not unlike hope and fear danced around in the green beauties.

    “You know I'm not a woman, right?” Dean joked with a shaky laugh that was more a puff of air.

    With a gentle smile he said, “I know.”

    Dean licked his lips.

    “Forgive me if I'm reading this wrong,” Cas searched Dean's eyes. He spoke in a hushed voice, “may I kiss you?”

    He heard Dean's sharp intake of breath and then a low whisper of, _“Yes.”_

 

~•~◇~•~

 

As Robert Plant sang quietly and Dean's nose bumped against his, Cas realized that he could feel the music.

   

    The music felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudo and/or a comment if you liked this! It would seriously make my day <33


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